


Timeshift

by inkstrain (orphan_account)



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Angst, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:48:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4850048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/inkstrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When we were young, and when we get old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timeshift

It's when the other messes up his guitar solo in _Ominous_ that Uruha finally admits it has been _long enough._

It had hurt, you see - to hear the strings and Aoi's callouses refusing to align during the moment the rhythm guitarist needed them to the most, fingertips fumbling to remember temporarily forgotten chords. He hadn't looked, kept his gaze away just like the rest of the members, carrying on as if Aoi hadn't mucked up an entire live with just a single slip of his hand. Maybe this is all his fault for ignoring the elder, and maybe it's not. But he's sure of one thing at least.

Aoi's going to need him tonight and, angry or not, he's going to be there for him.

  


When the door opens on his third knock post-live, it's to find himself staring at the atmosphere. Aoi's hotel room is thick with smoke, the smell of nicotine heavy in the air and nearly suffocating. Coughing several times as he closes and locks the door behind him, he watches his co-guitarist retreat without an acknowledgement of any sort, shoulders hunched and hands occupied by a cigarette and lighter instead of his iPhone. Not wanting to drown in fumes, he fumbles for the exhaust and flips the switch, eventually following the other and seating himself on the edge of the only bed there. But Aoi is facing away from him and staring at the wall, the smolder of a stubbed out cigarette on an ashtray upon the bedside table his only indication that the raven's no longer smoking. 

_"Aoi?"_

He reaches out to grasp at a bare arm, moving to rub at it soothingly when he feels no resistance, and it takes a while before Aoi finally manages to speak. 

_"I'm getting old."_

Uruha's eyebrows narrow in confusion at those three words, unsure what the other means at first, but he doesn't have to ask - the rhythm guitarist continues, voice a hollow and emotionless half whisper.

_"I'm making more mistakes now. With playing and... and with you."_

_"Aoi-"_

He shakes his head and squeezes the flesh underneath his grasp firmly, but the raven cuts him off, voice a little louder. 

_"It's probably why you don't want me anymore. Covered in make up, it looks like we haven't aged a day, but we have. I must look strange to you now."_ The elder takes a deep shaky breath, his next words a murmur. _"I know you are to me."_

Uruha's breath gets stuck somewhere along his airways at that, slowly taking his hand back. He's a little scared wary of what's to come, but he has to hear whatever it is, because if anybody's words matter the most, it's nobody else's but Aoi's. 

_"When I stare at you, I still see how you look like the first day we met."_

The raven lifts a hand and runs it over his face and his hair, inhaling deeply before continuing. _"You used to smile a lot wider with me and laugh easier too, at least compared to now. But even so, when you do so, that's how you always look like when I watch your face."_

He listens closely as the elder says things he has never heard from him the past thirteen years. Their relationship has always been less talk and more action, right from the very beginning - sex, touch, gestures - because they're men, and men aren't vocal about things like the depth of or the profundity of feelings. But for the first time, Aoi has dared to speak up, making himself vulnerable, and Uruha's chest feels so tight and full, like he's going to have a heart attack with the rhythm guitarist laying himself bare like he's doing so now, worn and tattered and _maybe-finally-in-love-more-than-ever._

  


_"Should I get my eyesight checked? Or am I having hallucinations, so my brain then?"_ Aoi's laugh is brittle and forced, the mattress shaking slightly with the tremors of such a fragile sound. _"Or maybe I'm just hoping you'll see what I see when you look at me. How I was before, with the fuller cheeks. The lipring. Less tired eyes. More capable hands."_

Uruha turns his body and sits on his heels facing the raven, leaning down awkwardly and perching his chin on a pale limb, Aoi's arm smooth and soft against his skin from being taken cared of so well. Tentatively, he delves a hand beneath the elder's shirt, tracing that patch of flesh under his bellybutton where a piercing used to be with his fingertips. 

_"What's wrong with grandpa Aoi? I like him a lot."_ He whispers with a soft smile, allowing his palm to go higher up to a still-defined torso, soothing and not sensual, hopefully comforting. _"I always see those wrinkles on the corner of your eyes first when I look at you, the ones you've collected from smiling and laughing so much."_

He moves his hand on top of Aoi's sleep shirt when the other doesn't protest or even say anything at all, moving upward to his chest and over a rapidly beating heart, and then a pale neck, then the corner of his mouth where that lipring had once been - nothing but a faint scar now, just a barely-there trace of yesterday. 

_"And when I see them, I go: 'Ha, those wrinkles are there because of me, they're mine.'"_ Rubbing a thumb over a full lower lip, Uruha turns Aoi's head so that they're face to face, his gaze gentle and his mouth upturned. _"Can't you see the ones from you on me?"_ He takes one of the raven's hands and guides a finger on the side of his eye, at the creases there. _"They're right here."_

Aoi's staring at him intently, moving his finger on the side of a sagging cheek and still-bow shaped upper lip, following the action with his eyes before-

 _"Kouyou..."_ The whisper of his real name makes something in Uruha's chest twinge painfully, but it's a good kind of pain. _"If you don't want me anym-"_

He leans in and doesn't let Aoi finish, pressing their mouths together and muffling the other's words before pulling back. 

_"Shut up. We were young together, we'll grow old together. And..."_ Uruha's straightening slightly and pushing at the nearest shoulder to him, forcing the rhythm guitarist on his back, shoving his legs apart and settling between those welcoming thighs. _"No matter how many wrinkles you get, I'll always want you, Yuu."_

And the hesitant, almost sheepish smile that finds its way on Aoi's lips make him seem young again, almost the exact same way he looked like after their first time in Budokan, that evening when they'd finally stopped fucking without feelings, the first night of _I love you_ and _I love you too_ and _no matter what._

Immortal then and even more so now, young but old with a limited stretch of forever- _"I'm going to fuck you over and over tonight."_

Uruha is smirking playfully as he says this, taking his shirt off in one swift move and already unbuttoning his pants, watching Aoi's eyebrows shoot up to his forehead before he's chuckling and smirking back. 

_"Oh you will?"_

Aoi has leaned up on his elbows, getting his own shirt off as Uruha tugs at his boxers to get them off, licking his lips at the sight of the other's cock as it's revealed to him, and hungrily. 

_"Yeah. Because my grandpa boyfriend's doubting how much I want him so maybe I have to do something to prove how wrong he is..."_

The raven is already staring greedily at Uruha's cock as soon as he's nude, sitting up and rubbing at his thighs sensually, looking up at him with darkening eyes. _"Let's see how many orgasms you can still manage, old man."_ And Uruha's comeback dies in his throat as his length is enveloped by a familiar wet heat, eyes screwing shut, reaching downward to grasp at a nest of midnight hair. 

  


It's a mess of laughter and amused exasperation as they love and fuck, their limbs having become less cooperative and even less flexible over the years. That, and their lungs are weary from too much screaming on microphones in a multitude of arenas, battered by smoke from countless cigarettes, breathless from too many held back confessions. 

And time is so short but feels as long too, the only way to fill these confusing gaps of seconds blending into years by making hours disappear into a blur.

  


_"Turn over, on your hands and knees."_

_"My knees are gonna give, we're no longer in our midtwenties you know."_

_"Come on, I'll be on my knees too so we'll probably end up crippled together."_

_"Out of all the many positions we could've- uuuh-uuhn!"_

_"Oh yeah, mmm... but it feels good like this, I can be as deep as I want..."_

_"Fuck Kou... hnnn... yeah, give it to me..."_

**And-**

_"Don't fucking stop, please!"_

_"Give me a second to breathe here, damn it!"_

_"I was so close... come... on...!"_

_"Yeah, do the work for now Yuu, fuck yourself on me..."_

_"Bet you you'll... mmm... only last round one, the rate you're hnn... you're going..."_

_"Fuck. You."_

_"Aah-aaah Kouyou yes, fuck yes, yes, oh yes!"_

They don't stop until the sunlight's peeking in from a miniscule gap between velvet drapes, the bedspread and their skin stained by sweat and sex and bruises that say _I'll fucking want you for the rest of your life._

  


And when the other perfects his guitar solo in _Ominous_ the following live is when Uruha finally admits that the many years he has already spent with Aoi can never be _long enough._

But the last thirteen? 

  


They will do, for now. 


End file.
